Our life is but a hunger game.
What we grow through makes us all change,
Massacred, burned into the grave
And nothing ever remains the same.
Tears fall and wars go on
with more blood shed,
Just for more bread,
And nothings being said,
Because they all forget about the dead.
But let it be known,
You upperclassmen,
We are the source of your progression,
And the foundation of your comfortable livelihood.
You're not "giving back"
you're reimbursing us for our own money.
Thank you.
YOU ARE READING
G E M I N I
Poetry"I write only because there is a voice within me that will not be still." - Sylvia Plath ( All Rights Reserved) NO COPYRIGHT in any way shape or form. Must have written consent from me. Only quote if you give credit ❤️ Some featured photos aren't...
